


Sharing More Than Labor

by goldberry-in-the-rushes (thepottermalfoyproblem)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Healthy Polyamory, Other, Polyamory, Smut, lady dwarves getting it on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepottermalfoyproblem/pseuds/goldberry-in-the-rushes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gloin's wife, Hepti, may have a hard road ahead while her husband is on the quest for Erebor. Fortunately, she does not have to face the long nights alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing More Than Labor

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own shit.
> 
> There is a severe lack of poly fic in this fandom, as well as a severe lack of femslash, so have some smut that is both.

Hepti sleepily opened one eye as the bed dipped down under the weight of another body. She chuckled and scooted over as her best friend settled in beside her. She was glad for Abarâl’s company. The past few days had been infinitely difficult, seeing her husband off with the company of Thorin Oakenshield, and dealing with her son spending countless hours pouting in the forges. Gimli might be of the opinion that he was old enough to go with his friends, but Gloin and Hepti would rather see him home safe. Mahal knows he would only get into mischief around the two princes.

Abarâl’s presence lessened the pain of her husband’s departure, temporary as it was. Her husband had left on the journey to Erebor as well, leaving her to care for their brood of dwarflings. Bombur and Abarâl had 10 children, an abnormality that brought great honor to the family but created too much work for one solitary dwarrowdam.

It was a good thing then that she did not have to carry on alone. Hepti and Abarâl had been childhood friends, bond only growing into something far stronger as they reached adulthood. When Abarâl fell head over heels for Bombur, Hepti had worried that her friend would leave her behind. However, Abarâl had promised that they would always stick together, and when Hepti in turn caught the eye of Gloin the two dwarrowdams hatched a plan that had become imminently useful.

If Hepti and Abarâl could be allowed to be together, they would marry their suitors. However, if Gloin and Bombur would not have them together, they could not have them at all.

Fears were unfounded, however. Their respective husbands were surprisingly receptive to the idea, even welcoming each other into the fold after a while. And hadn’t that been a pleasant surprise, two grown dwarrows holding hands and looking sheepish yet undoubtedly pleased with themselves while their wives laughed themselves silly.

Hepti giggled at the memory and Abarâl raised an eyebrow at her.

“Ah, just remembering Gloin’s face when he and Bombur came to tell us they wanted to be in on our little arrangement,” she explained, opening her eyes fully and grinning at Abarâl’s smirk. “I don’t know who was more shocked. Them, that they had somehow managed to snog each other near senseless, or us, that they had finally stopped dancing about each other like moon-struck donkeys.”

Abarâl snorted and sank further under the warm covers. “I think it was a bit of both, Hepti. Took them long enough.” She paused and smoothed a hand over the down coverlet. “The bed seems awfully empty without two gigantic living forges taking up half the space.”

“I know, being next to you without our two _kardân_ reminds me of when we were in our 60s and Amad would let you sleep over.”

“We hardly got into the kind of shenanigans then that we get into now, _Nu’kurdu_.” Abarâl’s voice slid lower into the affectionate term and the sound whispered down Hepti’s spine and settled between her legs.

“Ah, but I think we did, ‘barâ. I think the term was ‘What mam doesn’t know she can’t kill us for’.” Hepti rolled onto her side and grinned up at Abarâl, who laughed and threaded her fingers through her wife’s tresses. They had taken the oaths of bonding years ago, and the markings that symbolized their relationship stood dark next to their husband-marks. Abarâl brushed her thumb across Hepti’s neck to reveal the angular name-runes, still dark even after many years. Very few had these marks, fewer still more than one. It was a blessing to find love once, and a miracle to hope for more. Possibly this was the reasons so many spread the lie of dwarves only loving once and then never again.

Hepti’s breath hitched at the slide of Abarâl thumb and she reached up to draw her wife down into a soft kiss. “ _Yusthu’kurdu_ , must you tease me so?” she murmured against parted lips, sighing when teeth gently nipped at her lower lip.

Her answer was a sudden shift, and Abarâl leaning over her, thighs straddling her hips and hands braced on her shoulders. “Would you prefer I not tease at all and just go straight to bed? I’ve been busy all day and could certainly use the sleep…”

“No, ‘barâ, tease all you like. It seems our husbands’ impatience has worn off on me over the years.” Hepti gently rolled her hips upward, enjoying the way Abarâl’s eyelashes fluttered at the motion.

“So it would seem, my dear.” Abarâl leaned down, thick brown curls curtaining her face and brushing against Hepti’s cheeks. “Whatever are we to do with you?”

Hepti sucked in a gasp as Abarâl slid warm hands from her shoulders to cup her breasts through her thin nightgown. Practiced thumbs slid over already hardening nipples and she couldn’t help but arch into the familiar touch with a soft moan. Abarâl answered with a grin and a peck on the end of Hepti’s nose before shifting so she could pull her wife’s nightgown off with one smooth motion. She let her fingers trail behind the slide of fabric, the sensation sending tremors through Hepti’s body that pooled between her legs and made her moan with anticipation. As soon as her arms were free of her sleeves, she settled her hands on Abarâl’s generous hips, made wider by childbearing but no less beautiful than when she had been a lass of eighty. She rolled her own hips again, insistent.

Abarâl chuckled and sat back, drinking in the sight of Hepti spread out below her. Her strawberry blond hair was spread out around her head like a halo and generous breasts tipped in rosy nipples peaked out from under her beard. The glow of arousal that started at her cheekbones had descended to her shoulders. She was beautiful, the envy of many, and tonight she was Abarâl’s alone.

She was also frowning and plucking at the edges of Abarâl’s nightgown.

“What? Do you want me to take it off or something?” teased the dwarrowdam, blue eyes glinting with mischief.

“If you don’t I shall be forced to do something drastic,” hissed Hepti, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Abarâl laughed outright then, and spared her wife’s feelings. Gripping the edges of her gown she drew it off and tossed it in what she hoped was the direction of the hamper. Her beard may have been shorter than Hepti’s (damn curls kept it that way), but it still brushed against her nipples as it settled across her chest and she let out a huff of breath. Hepti grinned at the noise and reached a hand up to gently kneed one of her breasts. Abarâl moaned and involuntarily rocked forward, seeking friction.

“Who’s impatient now, ‘barâ?” Hepti huffed out a laugh, but reached down and slid two fingers between the other dwarrowdam’s legs. Abarâl’s eyes flew open and she rocked forward again, a low moan falling from her lips as Hepti wiggled her fingers a bit and smirked up at her.

They stayed like that for a while, Hepti spread out below Abarâl, fingers buried in her slick warmth, slowly growing slick herself as Abarâl moaned above her. Eventually, she whimpered and canted her hips towards Abarâl’s, seeking relief for the arousal that had been pooling between her legs since she had first climbed into bed.

When Abarâl leaned down with a bruising kiss and slid a hand between her legs, she keened with the sensation, bucking up hard against the offered hand. She slid her free hand up and buried it in Abarâl’s hair, kissing her back with equal passion. Nonsense words started seeping around her kisses, along with a fair amount of “shit, fuck, right there, oh Mahal yes please keep going pleasedon’tstooop” mixed in. Whether they were hers or Abarâl’s, she was too far gone to tell.

Abarâl came first, with a shudder and a high pitched whine and a wash of warmth over Hepti’s fingers. She ground down harder, chasing the orgasm with a second and a third. She had stopped kissing Hepti except for the sloppy brush of arousal-drunk kisses across her cheeks, and Hepti drank in the sight of her: cheeks rosy, eyes blown wide, and mouth open in breathy gasps and filthy words.

The sight was glorious and pushed Hepti over the edge as well, back arching as she came hard, the force of her orgasm sending pinprick stars across her sight and forcing a soundless scream from her mouth. She bucked helplessly against Abarâl’s hand as she rode out the wave of pleasure that stole over her.

They were both breathing hard, sprawled together in a tangle of limbs when they came down from the high of arousal. Abarâl chuckled and rolled off of Hepti with a quiet “oomph,” flinging her arms wide across the large bed.

“I counted 6 orgasms from me, what about you?” she finally gasped, chest still heaving.

Hepti giggled at her, glancing over before reaching out a hand and gently tweaking an overly sensitive nipple. “I lost count, _Kurduê_. I suppose that means I win?”

“Shit. No it certainly does not. Give me a minute to catch my breath and we can see who the real winner is. Me.”

Hepti responded with a pillow flung at Abarâl’s face, and the answering laugh echoed brightly through the room.

The two dwarrowdams might miss their husbands, but they would never be alone so long as they had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Gloin’s wife – Hepti  
> Bombur’s wife – Abarâl (grower/ one who grows)
> 
> **Khuzdul**  
>  _Nu’kurdu_ – Second-heart (literally second yet equal heart)  
>  _Kardân_ – heart-men  
>  _Yusthu’kurdu_ – wife of heart, heart’s wife  
>  _Kurduê_ – my heart
> 
> **Related Chat Transcription (from the Stolen Hats Skype):**  
>  “I can just see them slinking through the door while the gals are sharing an ale or something and Hepti's eyes going as big a saucers before shoving Abarâl's shoulder and choking on her drink.  
> Abarâl turns around quizzically and then near falls out of her seat she's laughing so hard.  
> ‘Knew you'd come around! Now our beds will never be cold!’”


End file.
